Daring Masquerade

by Margaret Tanner

  "Have a bath while I organize room service," he said.

  "Tea and sandwiches for me, please." The thought of food nauseated her.

  While he organized the food, she ran her own bath, having refused the offer of a maid. How humiliating letting someone dress and undress you.

  She lay in the warm, soapy water. What luxury compared to the old tin bath she always used at home. At Devil's Ridge they had a large claw-foot, porcelain bathtub but had to carry in water to fill it up. Here it was all piped in.

  "Ross." She remembered what Elsie said Ted told her.

  "What!"

  "Come in here."

  He hovered in the doorway.

  "Come and sit on the edge of the bath, I want to ask you something."

  She felt better asking him such an awkward question when she was covered to her neck by scented bubbles.

  "Elsie and I had a chat about things, she said Ted, that's her fiancé, was told by one of his mates whose father is a doctor, that there are things, that um, a man can do so he doesn't give his wife a baby all the time," she finished off in a rush.

  "Harry!"

  She watched in surprise as embarrassed red crept into his cheeks.

  "Is there?"

  He hit his forehead with his palm. "It's immoral women talking about such matters," he spluttered.

  "But is there? If I can't ask my husband, who can I ask?"

  "Don't you dare bring up this kind of conversation with anyone else."

  "I won't need to if you tell me."

  "All right, there are a couple of things, but I'll tell you when the time comes."

  "I want to know now."

  "It isn't decent."

  "You're embarrassed," she jeered.

  "All right, I am embarrassed," he admitted. Suddenly he grinned. "The only foolproof method is abstinence."

  He walked out of the bathroom laughing, and she threw the soap at his departing back.

  Harry dressed carefully for this party, the first of its kind she had ever attended. Her hair, having grown a little, still clung to her head in tight curls. The dress fitted perfectly. She had never worn anything so grand. It suited her, the soft folds giving her slim, boyish body a more voluptuous look. The green embroidery reflected in her eyes and they sparkled like emeralds. Without vanity, she knew she looked pretty.

  "Do I look all right?" she asked anxiously.

  "Yes, lovely. You'll do me proud tonight."

  "You're very handsome, too," she complimented.

  Dressed in a dark suit and a pristine white shirt with starched collar, and freshly shaven, he was a handsome man. His hair, damp from the bath and slicked back, still managed to wave. Even the scar did not detract from his rugged good looks now it was no longer raw and angry. In fact, it gave his face character.

  I'll be the envy of every other woman there. She inwardly hugged herself.

  "We'll get a taxi to Andrew's place. It's on the Esplanade in St Kilda, overlooking the sea."

  Thank goodness it was a warm, balmy evening so she didn't need a coat. One of the hotel staff ordered them a motorized taxi and she snuggled into the soft leather seat. It gave her a little thrill when Ross sat close with his arm draped across her shoulders.

  Maybe he really feels something for me, and once he knows I'm expecting his baby it will bring us even closer together.

  No point telling him now, it was too soon to be certain. Hugging her secret close, she vowed to tell him before he left for the war.

  She glanced out the taxi window as they passed down Swanston Street. The lamps threw shadows on to the dark waters of the Yarra River as they drove across the bridge.

  Ross' friend lived in a double-storied mansion with a tower in the middle. As he helped her alight from the taxi with a hand at her elbow, she could hear the sea. Smell it, too. Inhaling the salt laden air, tinged with the perfume of the gardens, she gave a little skip of excitement.

  Andrew Brady, a tall, thin man with a neatly trimmed moustache, looked every inch the army officer. Surprise registered in his eyes as he greeted her with a smile.

  "I'm pleased to meet you, Harriet. Could have knocked me down with a feather when Ross told me he got married." Laughing, he clapped Ross on the back.

  "Harriet, this is my wife Sarah. You know Ross, don't you, darling?"

  "How are you?" The pretty young woman gave Ross a peck on the cheek, before turning her attention to Harry. "You certainly are a surprise, Harriet."

  Instinctively, Harry felt animosity behind the seemingly harmless remark. This haughty lady did not approve of her. How she could be so sure on such a short acquaintance she didn't know, but she was.

  The opulent drawing room had huge basket-shaped chandeliers and crystal teardrop lights. French doors opened on to a garden leading directly to the beach. Oh yes, they were rich all right, this place screamed wealth. Her heart thumped and she gritted her teeth to stop from 'oohing' and 'aahing' out loud.

  Thirty or so people were present, all of them young, wealthy and supremely confident, causing her nervous apprehension to grow. Ross introduced her to various people, and the 'plum in the mouth' accents of many confirmed her first impression that they were all products of Melbourne's finest public schools. She felt as out of place here as a rose in the desert.

  An orchestra played softly and a few couples waltzed around.

  "Care to dance?" he asked.

  "I would like to, but I don't know how."

  "It's easy, follow what I do."

  He took her in his arms. How wonderful being held so close. She rested her head against his chest, feeling his heart thump strongly against her ear.

  "One, two, three." Following his whispered instructions, she soon got the hang of dancing and started enjoying herself.

  Through a set of glass doors was a table laid out ready for supper with a maid hovering close by. Glancing up Harry saw Clyde Bromley entering the room. The sight of the woman on his arm caused her to falter and step on Ross' foot.

  She was tall, with voluptuous breasts, tiny waist and shapely hips. Her wavy hair, black as onyx, flowed down her back until it reached her waist. An exceptionally beautiful woman, stunning in fact.

  Ross was looking the other way, and her gasp caused his head to swivel around. His body went rigid. The color faded from his face. A pulse convulsed in his jaw.

  "Virginia."

  Her name came out on an anguished groan, and as Harry stared into his eyes they showed such pain and longing she wanted to weep.

  She shook his arm and he slowly came out of his trance. "You've stopped dancing."

  Virginia sailed towards them, haughty as a queen, with Clyde scurrying along in her wake. She appeared a good foot taller than him. Her earrings were crafted from diamonds, so too the thick bracelets encircling either wrist. The pendant resting around her slender throat had a huge teardrop sapphire, encrusted with diamonds. In a gown of pale blue with deeper blue drapery, every other woman in the room paled into insignificance. No wonder every male head in the room turned to gaze at her beauty.

  Her eyes, ebony colored, slightly almond shaped, gave her an almost oriental look. Her lush full lips shone with red lip paint.

  "Ross, darling, how are you?" She spoke in a similar way to Sarah, only her voice sounded huskier. "Is this your wife?"

  "Yes, Harriet meet Virginia. You've met Clyde, of course."

  "Of course. Good evening, Virginia."

  "She's so young." Virginia gave a tinkling laugh that slithered like icicles along Harry's spine. "You must have stolen her from the school room. Harriet, dear, what happened to your hair?"

  "I had it cut short." She tried to gather her wits. "Different, isn't it?"

  "Very boyish, but attractive." Clyde leered at her.

  Close up he seemed even fatter and oilier than she remembered. He took her hand and kissed it. Her flesh crawled. She clamped her mouth shut so as not to scream at him to keep his filthy paws to himself.

  The four of them wal
ked to the side of the dance floor and a uniformed waiter came up with a tray of drinks. Ross picked up a glass of lemonade and handed it to her, champagne for Virginia, of course, and wine for himself. Clyde snatched up a glass of champagne in a chubby, sweaty hand.

  "You remembered, darling," Virginia gushed. "Those nasty scars have faded, too." She reached out and ran a long, slim finger down the side of Ross' cheek. "I thought you would be hideously scarred for life."

  He jerked his head away, but his gaze never wavered from Virginia's face. Harry knew for certain, even after all she had done to him, he was still besotted. She almost doubled up with pain as realization hit with the force of a tornado.

  "Is that why you spurned him?" Harry asked bluntly.

  "You know I never could stand anything flawed." Virginia tossed her head in an arrogant gesture. "Selfish, I suppose, but that's me."

  "Selfish?" Harry spat out. "Despicable, more like."

  "That's enough, Harriet," Ross warned.

  Harriet! She almost asked why all of a sudden she had become Harriet. Sounds more socially acceptable than Harry. Her hopes and dreams shattered into a million pieces before her eyes.

  "I hope we can still be close friends." Virginia slipped her arm through Ross' and Harry sucked in a shocked breath when he left it there.

  Sarah sailed over and Virginia kissed her on either cheek in a continental greeting, to let everyone know she had traveled overseas. Swiss finishing school perhaps?

  "So you've met up with Ross again, Ginny?" Sarah gushed. "I suppose you've met his wife. Henrietta, isn't it?"

  "No, Sarah, Harriet." Harry plastered a smile on her face while Ross stood in a trance-like state as if he had lost the power of speech.

  A few people drifted up to them. Virginia became the centre of attention and she took it as her due. Clyde stood next to her with his chest puffed out, obviously a man who liked to flaunt his wealth and possessions. Virginia was a possession. Harry did not doubt it for a single moment. She had sold herself to Clyde for his enormous wealth, the jewels she wore tonight being part payment.

  The evening lay in ruins. Ross did not speak, but watched with a brooding expression as Virginia flitted around like a gorgeous, colorful butterfly.

  "Do you want to dance again?" Harry finally asked in desperation.

  "No, I don't feel like it, we'll go soon. Here, give me your glass. I'll get us a refill. Where's that wretched waiter? Never around when you want him."

  He swung around and strode off. Feeling hot and bothered, she wandered over to the outside doors, propped open to let in a cooling sea breeze. Far out in the distance the lights of a large ship flickered. A troop transport carrying soldiers to France maybe? How many who left on it would return?

  Something made her glance up. Ross danced by with Virginia in his arms. So much for not feeling like it. Jealousy, raw and primitive, surged through her.

  They made a striking couple. Virginia, bright as a peacock, made her feel like a dull little sparrow. The taste of bitterness soured her mouth as the two of them sashayed together. Ross laughed, his face animated. Sick jealousy curdled her stomach. She could not compete with someone like Virginia, useless even trying.

  Tears burning her eyes, she dashed outside. She couldn't bear to watch them dancing so close together, thigh to thigh, breast to breast. The pain was too excruciating. Almost doubled over with the agony of her loss, she staggered. She couldn't see where the pitch-black sky finished and the never-ending sea started.

  Her feet sank into the sand as she skulked near the water. The soft slap-slap of waves broke the silence as she stood staring into the distance. Stars dotted the sky and a fat lazy moon hung on the horizon.

  She rambled along the shoreline, letting the tranquility soothe her troubled mind. Time passed, she did not know how long, did not care. When her arms tingled with goose bumps she regretfully turned away from the waves and started moving back towards Andrew's mansion.

  Muffled footsteps broke the silence. A dark shadow loomed up, and for a split second she thought it must be Ross searching for her. She opened her mouth to call out to him, and the words jammed in her throat. As the figure came closer, she recognized Clyde Bromley.

  "Beautiful evening," he said.

  "Yes, it is." Until you came along.

  "Seems like our respective spouses have deserted us, my dear."

  "Have they?" She edged towards the mansion, but he blocked off her escape.

  "To hell with them. We can have our own fun, eh."

  He prowled closer, and fear shot through her. She turned to flee. His arm snaked out and slammed her body against his fat stomach, his grip so tight it crushed her breasts.

  She smelt his sweating anticipation, and revulsion almost overwhelmed her. His lips, wet and slack brushed her neck, and she felt him nipping at the flesh.

  Twisting and turning in his embrace did no good, he was as strong as an ox. He grabbed her breast and she struggled to get free. She wanted to faint, but knew it would be the end of her if she did. His fingers gouged into the soft flesh of her shoulder as he held her against his body, while his other hand squeezed her bottom.

  Vomit rose up in her throat as his hard maleness thrust against her. A roaring sound almost burst her eardrums. She verged on collapse. His touch violated her body, absolutely sickened her.

  In desperation, she raised her knee and slammed it into his groin. He cursed with pain, staggered back and lost his grip. She sprinted towards the mansion with his curses and threats piercing the night air.

  She charged along the beach as if the hounds of hell snapped at her heels. By the time she arrived at the lawn area of the mansion she could scarcely breathe. Her heart pounded. Her legs trembled.

  A noise in the bushes caused a scream to rise up in her throat, but she pressed a hand into her mouth to stop any sound escaping. This would truly have to be one of the worst moments in her whole life. Had he watched her leave, and followed? It seemed likely, considering she had wandered some distance along the beach.

  She composed herself enough to creep back through the open doors into the crowded room. Glancing around frantically for Ross, she spotted him sitting on a chaise lounge with Virginia almost glued to his side. They laughed intimately.

  Cringing out of sight behind a marble pillar, she watched Clyde limp in, disheveled, his face crimson with rage.

  "That slut you married attacked me, Calvert," he spat out furiously.

  "What are you raving about?" Ross somehow managed to drag his enraptured gaze from Virginia, who made an annoyed moue with her mouth.

  "She's a mad woman, ought to be locked up. Working class scum."

  "Now look here," Ross spluttered indignantly. "Don't speak about my wife in such tones."

  "You're going to regret marrying her, Calvert. She's going to wish she had never been born by the time I'm through with her," he threatened. "I'm an important man. I have friends in high places."

  "Everyone knows how important you are, darling," Virginia said in her husky voice. "I can't understand why you married such a queer little thing Ross. So working class."

  Harry burned with fury, but waited to see whether Ross would defend her.

  "She's all right." He gave a rueful grin. "A little eccentric maybe."

  "Eccentric am I?" She marched up to them. "I admit to being working class, proud of it, in fact. Take me away from here. I never want to set eyes on that horrible creature again." She glared at Clyde.

  "Harriet!" Ross' jaw tensed. "You can't speak to Clyde like that. I'm sorry, she isn't herself tonight," he apologized. "I'm warning you," he spoke to her in hard metallic tones. "I don't know what's come over you."

  "Bromley followed me outside and tried to rape me."

  "For God's sake." The color faded from his face. "Have you completely lost your mind?"

  "I fought him off or he would have taken me on the ground like an animal."

  "Lying bitch," Clyde snarled. "This mad woman attacked me."

/>   "I think we should go." Ross' voice dripped icicles and Harry shivered in the warm room. This was nothing to how she felt inside. Her heart froze over with grief, because he did not believe her.

  "Goodnight, Virginia, Clyde."

  He did not touch her. It was as if he felt he might somehow contaminate himself, but he stalked off, leaving her to struggle after him alone. She trembled so badly she had to clench her teeth to force her legs into motion.

  It's not very far, she told herself. You can do it.

  Calling on a reserve of strength from God alone knew where, she forced herself to walk out of the room with her head held high. Only the desire not to let Clyde or Virginia see her cowed kept her from falling into a screaming heap on the floor.

  Ross stood bidding farewell to Andrew, Sarah comforted Virginia who conveniently burst into tears, and Harry battled on alone. Her shoulder ached from where Clyde's fingers gouged into the flesh, but her heart had taken a battering. Her body felt as if it had been mauled by a rabid dog.

  She waited silently, absolutely humiliated as Ross made excuses for her.

  "She hasn't been well over the last couple of days, you know how it is with women?"

  "Yes, I do," Andrew replied with a smirk.

  A car was put at their disposal, and Ross grabbed her elbow in a vice-like grip and dragged her into it. He gave the driver the name of the hotel before they drove off. He did not touch her. Anger bounced off him. The pain of betrayal cloaked her in misery. Relentless, it bore down with vicious intensity making her slump against the seat. Not one word passed between them as they drove to the hotel and traipsed upstairs.

  He attacked her the moment they stepped into their room. "How dare you humiliate me in front of my friends with such disgraceful behavior."

  "My behavior?" she screamed, tears pouring down her cheeks. "That foul creature tries to rape me, and all you're worried about is losing face in front of your snobby friends."

  "For God's sake, have you lost your mind?"

  "I want to have a bath," she cried wildly, losing control. "I have to wash the touch of that vile creature off my skin." She struggled out of her clothes.

  "What are you saying?" His face blanched.

  "He followed me along the beach and grabbed me, squeezed my breasts and forced his mouth on mine. It felt wet and slimy like a snake."